


Not Alone

by cloudyjenn



Category: Supernatural, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, mutants in love, teenage romance, vaguely connected to canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudyjenn/pseuds/cloudyjenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak hides a terrible secret about a frightening ability and as far as he's concerned, no one will ever have to know.  Which works pretty well up until he sprouts wings in his fourth period class.  Soon after, he finds himself at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters where he discovers he's not the only freak with a secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a work in progress. It's Erik/Charles and eventual Dean/Castiel. Which romance between two underage characters, but there is none between an adult and student.

Castiel's primary mutation manifests when he is seven years old. If he strains his memory, he can recall weeping, the explosive crack of gunshot and a high-pitched scream.

He very rarely bothers to try. For the most part, Castiel pretends it never happened. Pretends that he's normal, that latent power doesn't simmer just below the quiet calm surface he shows to the world. His brother, Gabriel, is the only person who suspects something is different about Castiel, but for all his flippancy and facade of nonchalance, Gabriel would do anything to keep Castiel safe.

Yet even Gabriel can't protect Castiel when his secondary mutation manifests. Castiel is fifteen years old, an awkward high school sophomore more concerned with his studies than girls, unlike so many of his classmates. He's already the target of scorn and mockery, a hundred whispered comments about that freaky little kid in the trenchcoat. Half the school is convinced Castiel is an alien and not a few suspect a dark truth about him that even Castiel has yet to admit to himself. But those rumors are nothing compared to what happens when Castiel abruptly sprouts wings during fourth period chemistry.

His back's been hurting all day, a deep muscle ache he can't smooth away by his own hand. Gabriel steals him a few painkillers from the nurse, but they can't begin to dull the throbbing tightness that grows to a pounding agony during his science class.

"What's your problem, Novak?" Someone asks when Castiel stumbles to his feet and blindly staggers to the teacher's desk.

"Castiel?" she asks worriedly.

But he can't answer. Pain robs his tongue and just as Castiel thinks he'll pass out, his body pulls tight like a bowstring, one perfect moment of horrifying tension and then releases. Relief pounds through him, bringing tears to his eyes and distracting him from the sound of clothes ripping and his classmates screaming. His first impression of the wings is the sensation of heavy warmth pressing against his legs. Behind him, he hears cursing and anger, one voice urging the others to trap him before he can escape.

"Escape?" Castiel tries to say, but he's looked over his shoulder and there are feathers everywhere. His shock pulses through his body and out to the tips of the massive wings now attached to him.

He faints.

**************

When Castiel wakes up, he's laying on his side in a hospital room. His wings are draped over one side and onto the floor. One wrist is encircled with a metal cuff attached to the side of the bed. The room is empty save him and from his position, Castiel can see a heavy padlock on the door.

Fear freezes his blood to ice. He's going to be hacked to pieces right here. They're going to dissect him like an insect and discover how dangerous he really is and he'll never see his family again-

His panic is interrupted by a scratching noise at the door. It slides open and a doctor walks in. Or at least a man wearing a white coat. The black turtleneck and black pants under it seem out of place.

As does the barely hidden rage Castiel sees in the man's light eyes.

"Who are you?" Castiel rasps.

"My name is Erik," the man says, his voice dark and slightly accented. "I've come to pass along a message."

"What message?" Castiel asks, frowning.

The man, Erik, makes a fist with one hand and snaps it back. The cuff around Castiel's wrist shatters and Erik opens his hand again, grinning a frightening smile of satisfaction as the broken pieces float up to rest in his palm.

"You're not alone."

Not alone?

Castiel stares at the metal crumbling into a tiny ball in Erik's palm. There are more like him. More freaks and outcasts. People with unbelievable and, once Castiel gives it even a second of thought, terrifying power. He's not sure of the exact nature of Erik's talent, but it involves the ability to crush metallic bands without touching them, so he knows enough to see how dangerous Erik could be.

And yet, he doesn't fear him.

Erik glances at the door quickly before tossing the cuffs into the garbage. "Would you like to leave this place, Mr. Novak?" he asks. Castiel gets the feeling the question is only for show and that Erik has no intention of leaving him trapped there. Luckily, Castiel also has no qualms with this plan.

"Yes, but won't they notice us leaving?"

If the hospital staff went to the trouble of locking Castiel to his bed, he doesn't think they'd appreciate him waltzing out with a total stranger. His question brings an interesting smile to Erik's lips. More of a smirk than anything.

"Don't worry about that. Just follow me."

Erik waits long enough for Castiel to find and tug on his blue jeans under his white gown before opening the door again and stepping out into the hall. Castiel's new wings drag behind him, heavy and awkward. He tries to move the right muscles to lift them, but his brain can't figure out how to do it. The best he can manage is to step carefully so they don't knock over things in his path.

Just outside and to the left of Castiel's door is a nurses' station. At least four uniformed women bustle around the desk and for a split second, panic clutches at Castiel, stalling his movement. Erik grabs his elbow without missing a beat, tugging him along.

"No delays, if you please, Mr. Novak," he says quietly.

They walk past the nurses without drawing even the slightest bit of attention.

Castiel stares over his shoulder at them as he stumbles along at Erik's pace. "They didn't see us!" he hisses. Erik doesn't answer, only gives him that odd little quirk of lips again and increases their speed. Along the way, they pass three fellow patients, two doctors and six hospital staff members and not one even glances at the boy clad in a white gown and jeans with giant black wings draped off his back. They move around Erik and Castiel as though they sense their presence, but other than that, the two might as well be invisible.

"Are you doing this?" Castiel asks, pressing close to Erik's side.

"No," is Erik's succinct reply.

"Then I don't understand," Castiel says, unable to stop himself from pressing the point. They turn a corner and pass another man who doesn't react to their presense. "Have I died?"

An odd noise catches his ear. Perhaps a throat clearing or maybe even a badly suppressed chuckle. Castiel glances at the man they just walked past.

The man winks at him.

"That man!" Castiel gasps, trying to stop, but unable to match Erik's strength. "He winked at me!"

"I know," Erik said, his tone dry. He rolls his eyes and adds, in the barest hint of a mutter, "He can't help himself."

"What-"

"I promise everything will be explained to your satisfaction, now please shut up so we can get away from here."

Castiel shuts up.

**************

There's a car waiting for them at the edge of the hospital parking lot. It's empty, but running and when Castiel tries to climb into the front seat, Erik orders him into the back without giving a reason. Having been used to obeying his father's senseless orders for years, Castiel shoves himself and his gangly wings into the backseat, also without comment. They sit together in silence for another five minutes, then the door opens and the winking man from the hallway slides in.

"Hello!" he says in a cheery voice. Now that Castiel isn't distracted and high on adrenaline, he sees more details about the man. Approximately the same age as Erik, wearing a corduroy coat and brown vest and looking at Castiel with eyes as blue as his own. His voice is also accented, though in a different manner than Erik's. Castiel wonders if all the freaks are foreigners.

"Hello," Castiel answers. "Who are you?"

"Didn't you tell him?" the man asks, frowning at Erik.

"No."

The man sighs. "Really, darling, you must give people more information before they make this choice."

"What choice? Stay locked up or escape? I didn't think there was time to discuss tuition fees."

"Still, how would-"

"Excuse me," Castiel interrupts. His father had taught him not to interrupt adults, but in this case, he thinks he could be forgiven. "Would it be alright if you told me who you are now?"

"Of course," the man says, turning sideways to peer into the back as Erik directs the car out of the lot. He glances to Castiel's wings and his smile grows. "My name is Charles Xavier. I run a school for people like you. Extraordinary people. And well…I've come to offer you a place there."

Castiel stares. A school? For freaks like him? It doesn't seem possible. Just last week, he thought he was utterly alone and now this man tells him there's an entire school full of people just like him. It must be a dream or a joke. He thinks about returning to his old school, but the thought won't work. It can't work. Not with his new limbs. In fact, for the first time since waking up, Castiel fully realizes there's no place for him to go.

"You'll fit right in," Mr. Xavier says lightly. "You wouldn't even be the only student with wings." At Castiel's silence, his grin falters. "I mean, at least come and give it a look. If you don't-"

"Yes," Castiel says. "I mean. Yes, I'll come and look."

Might as well give it a shot.


	2. Chapter 2

There are a hundred questions swirling in Castiel's mind, so furious a storm of curiosity that it keeps him silent for a long moment as Erik guides the car through a congested area of town. How did they find him? What was going to happen to him at the hospital? Do his parents know where he is? Are they taking him home first before going to the school? Where is the school?

Before he can settle on what to ask first, Mr. Xavier speaks up.

"You're going the wrong way," he says to Erik, placing a hand on his arm as though he worried his words weren't enough to alert Erik to his mistake.

"No, I'm going a different way. This will still take us where we need to go," Erik says with the easy confidence of one who controls the steering wheel.

"So will the other way and we've already been that way. You're going to get us lost," Mr. Xavier argues.

Erik snaps back a mildly irritated reply and from there, the conversation devolves into pointless bickering that effectively distracts Castiel from his questions. Their obvious familiarity and the lack of heat in their argument firmly reminds Castiel of his parents. In fact, he's almost positive his parents have had this exact same argument while trying to transport the family to an unfamiliar location. He's never quite seen two men talk to each other that way. Or touch each other so much. Well, perhaps it would be more accurate to say, how much Mr. Xavier touches Erik. But Erik's reaction to the touching, that same quirk of lips Castiel first saw in the hospital and a hint of fondness in his light eyes, also strikes as odd to Castiel.

"Charles," Erik finally says, interrupting Mr. Xavier in the middle of a building rant about Erik's stubborn nature. "I have no problem stopping to put you in the trunk."

That threat is spoken with such affection that an idea creeps into Castiel's mind. A thought which touches on one of the many uncomfortable secrets Castiel hides as deeply as possible. Heat flashes across his face. Those thoughts are always a bad idea. Castiel turns his head to stare out the window and tries his best to clear them away.

He misses the sudden silence and the way Erik and Mr. Xavier exchange a glance at their young friend's abrupt change in mood.

"I'm terribly sorry," Mr. Xavier says in a different voice to the one he uses on Erik. This one is both gentler and more distant, like that of a teacher. Castiel wonders what it would take to hear the other voice directed towards him and further, why he cares so much. "You must have so many questions for us."

"Obviously," Castiel agrees.

His answer makes Erik smile for some reason. Castiel glosses over the reaction. He's used to adults finding him unusual, though it is gratifying to have it charm someone instead of make them angry.

"Well, then. We have a little time here," Mr. Xavier says, turning enough in his seat that he can see Castiel in the back. Castiel notices that it presses his knee into Erik's leg. "What's on your mind?"

The questions return full-force, each other clamoring for equal attention and instead of sorting through them, Castiel just spits out the first he comes across.

"What can you do?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, Erik can move objects with his mind-"

"Metal only," Erik interjects.

"Metal objects," Castiel amends. "I'm…I have wings," he says, stumbling over another of his uncomfortable secrets. They don't need to know about his other problem. "What can you do?"

"Ah, I see," Mr. Xavier says and his face lights up with excitement, earning himself another slight eye-roll from Erik. "I can show you." He turns fully and leans one elbow onto the top of his seat, reaching up to touch one temple. "Clear your mind."

Erik snorts. "I do so enjoy seeing you turn your ability into a parlor trick."

"Hush. Castiel, is your mind clear?"

"Of course not. I can't shut my brain off," Castiel says.

Erik snorts again.

"Well, yes, okay. Just make it as clear as possible," Mr. Xavier says, a dry note to his tone.

Castiel obeys to the best of his ability. A part of him is still monitoring his shameful reaction to Mr. Xavier and Erik's relationship, another part is worrying about what Gabriel thinks became of him and yet another is thinking about how hungry he feels. But otherwise, his thoughts are relatively calm.

"Alright," he says.

"Good," Mr. Xavier says. "Now, I want you to think of an image. Any image will do."

It will be many years before Castiel can think of this moment without a tremendous rush of humiliation. The first image, the very first thing that pops into his traitorous brain, is how he imagines Erik's face would look if Mr. Xavier were enthusiastically sucking his dick.

Mr. Xavier chokes and turns bright red, his fingers snatched away from his temple. Beside him, Erik begins chuckling softly, his eyes on the rear-view mirror where he can obviously see Castiel trying to hide himself under one massive wing.

"Whatever he thought, you probably deserved. You should have known better than to ask that of a fifteen year old boy, Charles," he says with apparent delight.

"I think next time, a simple 'I read minds' will have to do," Mr. Xavier agrees, chagrined.

Castiel refuses to speak to either of them for the rest of the trip.

*************

It turns out that Mr. Xavier has planned for Castiel's family.

"This isn't the first time we've done this," Mr. Xavier tells the side of Castiel's face. He still won't look at either him or Erik, but nevertheless he listens attentively as Mr. Xavier describes how they've sent another teacher to his family's home. The teacher, a woman called Anna, has the power to project calming feelings into other people.

"Most parents are so pleased to hear their child was selected to visit a school for the gifted that they allow Anna's talent soothe their natural concerns that the invitation came out of nowhere," Mr. Xavier explains. "But she'll clarify the visit is only for a week. After that, it's up to you what you want to do."

In other words, whether he'll tell them what happened. Because if he decides to see them, he won't be able to hide what happened to him. The wings draped over his lap aren't going anywhere.

"You can always find help at our school, Castiel. No matter what happens," Mr. Xavier says gently.

So if his family recoil from him with disgust in their eyes, Castiel won't be completely helpless. In truth, deep down inside his heart, Castiel isn't sure how his mother and father will react. But he knows, at least, that Gabriel won't let something so trivial as wings come between them.

He can tell Mr. Xavier is watching him the rearview mirror, so Castiel nods shortly and silence falls between them again for so long he thinks it'll keep for the entire trip. But then Erik abruptly remembers a question about a lesson he wants to ask Mr. Xavier and the two fall into an easy conversation that lulls Castiel into a light slumber.

When he wakes up, Erik is shaking his shoulder and it's dark outside. They must have been driving for at least five or six hours.

"We're home," Erik says and it sounds as though he means it for Castiel as well.

It's too dark for many details, but even so, Castiel can tell the house is enormous. There must be a hundred windows glowing with light and life. In the far distance, perhaps towards the back of the house, he can hear music playing. The door they parked beside opens, allowing the babble of voices to circle Castiel. A pretty blond woman smiles a greeting.

"Thank god you're back, Professor," she says, though her tone is cheeky when she gives Mr. Xavier the title. "Hank needs you in his lab. He's about to lose it over…well, actually, I don't know what he was roaring about, but it sounded urgent."

Mr. Xavier seems as amused as the woman, so Castiel assumes there's no real danger of destruction. He places a hand on Castiel's shoulder and squeezes.

"Erik'll show you where you can sleep tonight. We'll talk more in the morning, alright?"

Castiel nods. He watches closely when Mr. Xavier bids Erik goodnight, but there's nothing overly intimate about the moment.

He tells himself he's not disappointed.

"Come on," Erik says. The woman stops them and loops her arm through Castiel's.

"Gruff, much? Hello, Castiel," she adds to him with genuine warmth. "I'm Raven. Charles is my brother." Her gaze traces the outline of his wings. "Very nice."

Castiel flushes, but doesn't speak, just lets himself be led into a long corridor. The door they came through is obviously not the front door because the hall is modest and the ceiling low. They pass a few open doors where others sit, talking, the source of the babbling voices, but they only meet a few others as they reach a steep staircase. Two or three teenagers, each giving Castiel a curious look. But not malicious like the ones he received from his old classmates. Just…fascinated and maybe a bit admiring of his new limbs.

"This is your room for the night," Erik says, stopping them in front of a door marked 17. Under it, there's a marker that says 'Chuck Shurley'. He raps on the door with the back of one hand. Seconds later, a short brown-haired boy with heavy glasses answers.

"Chuck, this is-"

Before he can finish speaking, something happens that startles Castiel so thoroughly that he yelps softly. An long stream of tattooed words explodes across Chuck's pale skin, starting from the corner of one eye and swimming over his entire face. They go by too fast, but Castiel catches a few before they fade.

 _whatthefuckwingsholyshitcompetitionerikhelloravenfucknewguyblueeyes_

"Chuck is a writer," Erik says wryly.

"I see," Castiel answers in a daze.

This school is going to be even more interesting than he anticipated.


	3. Chapter 3

Erik is reading in his usual chair when Charles returns from settling Hank’s nerves regarding a glitch in his latest experiment. He pauses for a moment to admire the way firelight casts shadows across Erik’s sharp cheekbones and jawline. Erik’s harsh beauty never ceases to amaze Charles.

“Is Hank going to make it?” Erik asks without looking up from his book or even pausing in his reading.

Erik’s multitasking skills also amaze Charles.

“Oh he’s fine. Another false alarm.”

Charles stops at the liquor cabinet on his way to his own chair and pours two glasses of bourbon. It’s habit by now. They have fallen into a very comforting pattern. Charging through each day without a pause to draw breath only to find relaxation in each other’s company in Charles’ study. Charles will always appreciate his debates with Erik, but sometimes, his favorite days are when they don’t speak at all.

Living with dozens of hyper and powered children makes quiet adult company was priceless.

“Did Castiel get settled alright?” Charles asks as he hands Erik’s glass over.

“Hmm, yes. I put him with Chuck.”

That was clever of him, Charles thinks. Chuck might not be the most popular of their students, but he knows everyone and everything about them, it seems. If Charles wasn’t able to sense otherwise, he’d have guessed Chuck had a telepathic ability.

“Well, he’ll be well-informed come morning then.”

Charles sat and sipped his drink, eyes falling on their unfinished game from the previous evening.

“Castiel’s hiding something,” he commented a moment.

Erik lifts an eyebrow. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“You know I couldn’t tell you even if I knew,” Charles scolds. It’s an old argument between them. Erik thinks Charles should violate his morality if it protects the school. Charles knows he must remain absolute in his convictions.

“I didn’t scan his deep thoughts. I could just sense it without meaning to. He shied away from it many times in the drive over.”

“And if it turns out to be something disastrous?” Erik asks, though his tone is resigned at best. He knew Charles wouldn’t betray one of their students.

“Really, Erik. He’s 15 and a very polite young man. I doubt he’s hiding the desire to overthrow us or the like,” Charles says as he leans forward to make his next move in their game.

“It may not be dangerous by design,” Erik reminds him.

Which really, Charles isn’t stupid.

“I won’t pry. The only thing we can do is make him feel welcome and offer the opportunity for him to share anything that’s bothering him with us,” Charles says. It’s no more or less than the give all their students.

Erik sighs, but Charles senses the hint of mischief in him right as his lips quirk and he speaks again.

“At the very least, you could tell me what he thought at you in the car.”

Charles flushes a little. For a boy, Castiel has a very explicit imagination. Too explicit, in fact. Charles would guess it wasn’t the first time those sort of thoughts had entered Castiel’s mind. In that case, he may need another kind of support altogether. Charles resolved to keep an eye on him. Struggling with one’s sexuality is never easy, but when that sexuality isn’t always acceptable to society….well, Castiel would need the help.

“You know I can't tell that either,” Charles says sternly. Judging by the way Erik’s smile twitches, Charles thinks he’s not buying it.

He’s right not to.

“On the other hand…”

Charles stands from his seat and walks to Erik, falling to his knees. His own smile is wicked as he places his hand on Erik’s leg and rubs a thumb along his inner thigh.

“I could show you.”

“Oh my,” Erik says, breath hitching and eyes dilating. “Our Castiel is a naughty boy, I see.”

“Quite so,” Charles agrees.

By the time he’s turned him to a moaning babbling mess, Charles thinks Erik’s rather grateful for that fact.

**************

They end up in Westchester County, New York. It's been four weeks since John picked up stakes and drove them all night from where they'd been settled in Pennsylvania for the last several months.

Four weeks since Sam's last big meltdown. Dean isn't sure what he hates more. The way the visions frighten Sam to the point of sobbing himself sick or the way John uses them to his advantage. Dean wants to find out what happened to his mother as much as anyone, but if he could, he'd do anything to take away the psychic flashes that are only growing worse as time goes by. If he thought Sam would let him, Dean would fight John to stay in one place long enough for his brother to finish school. But as much as the visions scare him and as painful as the resulting headaches are, Sam believes he's the only hope for finding out the truth about Mary.

The only hope to bring John peace and stop this crazy cross-country hunt.

Dean knows they won't move for a few weeks at the most. The murder Sam saw in his vision is too similar to Mary's to be coincidence. John will stay until he gleans every piece of information he can. Dean hates himself for being pleased about staying in one place when the price was another person's life.

"Stop it," Sam scolds him. He's watching Dean intently from the couch as Dean distractedly fixes them a pot of stew. John left some money for food, but not really enough for anything good.

"What?"

"You're moping. That man would have died anyway. You don't have to feel guilty about it," Sam says.

Dean hates it when he does that.

"So you're a mindreader too now?"

"No, you're just really transparent," Sam retorts, but he's grinning when he says it. "If anything it's my fault. If I'd have my visions sooner, I could-"

"No way, dude," Dean snaps, turning around to glare at him. "It's not like you can just control this shit."

"But maybe I should." His tone is forlorn and he looks away, down at his hands twisting in his lap. "I've been seeing things for years now. Shouldn't I have learned how to...I don't know, at least direct the visions?"

None of this is Sam's fault. He didn't ask to be different. Dean will be damned if he lets the kid think that way. He advances towards the couch, waving a threatening ladle in Sam's face.

"It's not like there's psychic school, Sam," he growls. "No one would know how to handle what's happening to you, okay? I'd have fucking bashed my head by now. So shut up."

Luckily for him, Sam is used to Dean's indelicate way of comforting. In fact, it seems to ease the tension in his shoulders and the smile returns to his face, though this time it's softer.

"I just wish people wouldn't die. I mean, not in my head," he clarifies.

"Yeah, well." Dean wishes people wouldn't die at all. "Go set the table."

"Can't. Had a vision I'd break a bowl and step on the glass," Sam immediately says.

Dean glowers and orders the little liar to set the table anyway, but secretly he's glad to hear the kid making jokes.

He's got a feeling they could use a bit of humor in the coming weeks.


End file.
